


Untitled Ikea furniture drabble series

by Cesare, kisahawklin



Category: Psych, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Anthropomorphism - Freefom, Community: mcshep_match, Crack, Crossover, Drabble, Drabble Sequence, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-28
Updated: 2010-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:24:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cesare/pseuds/Cesare, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team (plus Radek) as Ikea furniture; some familiar faces take them home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Ikea furniture drabble series

[ ](http://kisahawklin.dreamwidth.org/profile) [ **kisahawklin** ](http://kisahawklin.dreamwidth.org/)

"It has a spot," the man says. "See? That yellow splodge?"

"It's not a spot, honey," the woman answers. "It's part of the grain."

_You tell him_, Rodney says. _That knot in my white oak desktop is what separates me from all –_

"I don't like it."

And that's how Rodney finds himself back at Ikea, though at least he's not in the stacks with those other stupid desks anymore. No, he's in the As-Is room, next to a tall black bookcase – does it have a extender? – with an inordinate number of doors and compartments.

_I'm John_, the bookcase says.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  


[ ](http://soleta.dreamwidth.org/profile) [ **soleta** ](http://soleta.dreamwidth.org/)

John bangs his doors just to hear them rattle - not that he can hear himself think over the diatribe from the desk next door. He isn't interested in how close Rodney was to the display model, a smooth little medium-brown number named Sam, or what the knot in his woodwork means.

It's the misfits that end up in As-Is, and it's for just that reason John tucks himself away against the wall and slouches, threatening to drop his decorative extender on anyone who comes too close.

Somehow Mister White Oak refuses to care. John rattles his doors and sighs.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  


[ ](http://kisahawklin.dreamwidth.org/profile) [ **kisahawklin** ](http://kisahawklin.dreamwidth.org/)

_And seriously, must you make so much noise?_ Rodney asks irritably. The constant rattling and clanging is getting on his nerves. _Some of us take a discerning eye –_

A well-dressed couple is heading down the aisle, and Rodney makes sure he's perfectly aligned against the wall, but they stop at John, of course, the woman running her hands along his shelves seductively.

"Oh, I like this," she says, looking at his price tag. Rodney sticks out his bottom drawer and she stumbles over it, falling and scratching her leg. Her husband hurries her out of the room.

_That was close._

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  


[ ](http://soleta.dreamwidth.org/profile) [ **soleta** ](http://soleta.dreamwidth.org/)

_Was that entirely necessary_? John demands, flapping a glass door at Rodney.

_You don't want to go with them_, Rodney protests. _That woman had dog hair all over her._

_I like dogs,_ John points out.

_And dust_, Rodney adds hastily. _Lots of dust._

John represses an atavistic shiver. _You're making shit up._ He's almost sure.

Rodney sniffs, idly swinging the door to the small cabinet hiding another set of drawers. _Maybe._

_If I went, you'd have this whole corner to yourself._

_But you're the perfect backdrop,_ Rodney protests. _You help me look my best._

John rattles his doors in frustration.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  


[ ](http://kisahawklin.dreamwidth.org/profile) [ **kisahawklin** ](http://kisahawklin.dreamwidth.org/)

_He likes dogs_, Rodney mutters. It's ridiculous. Doesn't he realize the kind of damage they can do?

_Maybe you should tell him you like him_, the loveseat says, and Rodney flaps his keyboard tray at him.

_Shut up, Reddy_, Rodney says, _you're going to wake him up!_

_Radek_, the loveseat says, _and I was just trying to help._

Rodney's spared dignifying that statement when Brett the Ikea guy brings in a fantastically beautiful office chair, graceful and gorgeous, and parks her at Rodney's desk.

_I am Teyla_, she says, and tilts an arm against Rodney's desktop in a friendly gesture.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  
  
[ ](http://cesare.dreamwidth.org/profile)  
[ **cesare** ](http://cesare.dreamwidth.org/)

Before Rodney even has a chance to greet the new arrival, Brett the Ikea guy returns and manhandes the three of them to make a little display in the corner – _What the heck_, John wakes abruptly – and deposits a tall lamp in their grouping.

The lamp looks tall and Spartan, and sports long twisted cables that end in bright yet surprisingly gentle lights.

_Hello_, greets the desk chair. _My name is Teyla._

_Ronon,_ says the lamp.

John gives them the same nonsense greeting about football and fast things that he gave Rodney.

Apparently he says it to everyone.

Rodney seethes.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  


[ ](http://soleta.dreamwidth.org/profile) [ **soleta** ](http://soleta.dreamwidth.org/)

John is feeling confined, surrounded by other furniture as he is, so the next time Teyla runs one of her little meditation sessions he reluctantly joins in. Her instructions are pretty generic, but they have to be with the array of furniture she's convinced to take part, and the ridiculous amount of parts they don't have in common. He recedes inside himself and sighs in relief when he's met by nothing but silence and gentle lights.

After five minutes he's lonely. After ten he gives up and opens his eyes. Two men have come in while he was otherwise occupied.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  


[ ](http://kisahawklin.dreamwidth.org/profile) [ **kisahawklin** ](http://kisahawklin.dreamwidth.org/)

When Rodney comes out of the meditation he reluctantly joined in, two men are looking at John like he's the answer to their prayers.

_What do you do, spray attract-o-polish on your wood_? Rodney grouses.

"No wait, Gus," one of them says, surveying their whole corner of the As-Is room. "Look, it's a whole set!"

"Shawn," Gus says, the warning clear.

"But look. It's a perfectly eclectic collection for my new apartment." Shawn puts a hand to his temple. "I feel like they belong together."

"The loveseat is _red_, Shawn."

"And the desk is white oak," Shawn answers. "They're perfect."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Author's Note:**

> For [McShep Match](http://community.livejournal.com/mcshep_match) drabble challenge.


End file.
